Hush
by The Destructive Olive
Summary: It was quiet and cold on the deck of the ship. Gold tones shifted and glowed along its surfaces, shining dully; the only sound was the hushing sigh of the temporal-current wind. For which Davesprite was thankful, because he was trying to go back to sleep.


It was quiet and cold on the deck of the ship.

Gold tones shifted and glowed along its surfaces, shining dully; the only sound was the hushing sigh of the temporal-current wind. For which Davesprite was thankful, because he was trying to go back to sleep here, dammit.

A shiver wracked through him, and he grimaced, rolling his shoulders and burying his nose deeper into the crook of his left wing. He'd been snoozing just fine, floating with his tail wrapped around the ship's railing in a secluded spot near the bow, looking like some dumpass bird with his head tucked to the side and wings hunched protectively around himself, when he'd jolted awake. Couldn't quite figure what the hell had woken him, but he didn't particularly care. Dealing with Egbert and Harley all day was unsurprisingly exhausting and privacy was hard to find, even with such a big-ass empty ship. Davesprite was beginning to suspect that "personal space" was a phrase neither of them had ever heard before. Especially John. Seriously. That kid.

He shifted, uneasy. His ectoplasmic, obnoxiously neon feathers prickled, and he thought he heard a quiet footstep. And another. Oh come on, couldn't a sprite catch some z's around this place?

"Egbert," he said, into the ruff of ghostly fluff around his neck, "I can hear you."

A dorky gigglesnort, then the tap of stupid yellow shoes. "Geez, D-... I was wondering if you'd ever notice me. Some ninja you are." Davesprite took in the hesitation, the omission of his name, and wondered if he was real or not, being the only Dave around. Then he shook the thought off, literally, with a shudder and the reluctant lifting of his head. "Dude. I totally knew you were there the whole time. Shut up." He got only a grin in return, before John floated over and settled on the railing next to him.

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence. Davesprite felt the air warm around him, and glanced over at John, who in turned stared with worrying blankness into empty space. "Egbert," he said softly, and the boy jolted, disconcerted. "Yeah?"

"Looking a little gloomy there."

"... Oh. Yeah." An unconvincing laugh. Davesprite simply stared through his shades, watching John fidget. Then he settled himself a little more comfortably, actually sitting on the railing instead of floating above it, and said, deadpan, "Alright, what."

He was startled by the swiftness of his friend's reply. "I was thinking about my dad."

The heir's mouth pulled down at the corners, an involuntary movement, as he said the words. "I miss him."

Shit.

Striders did not do emotional talks.

How was he going to handle this.

Uncertain, Davesprite hesitated, before laying a careful hand on John's shoulder. "I... I guess I know where you're coming from." Wide blue eyes turned on him, and, daunted, he seceded into quiet. After a beat, seeing he wasn't going to say anything more, John nodded.

Again, they let the space between words stretch. Then Davesprite jumped, as John grabbed the hand still resting on his shoulder. "Why's your hand so cold?" John questioned, flattening it between his own, fiddling with his orange, scaly fingers. "It's like you're made of plastic or something like that." Davesprite let out a barking laugh. "Seems legit. Seeing as I'm not the real Dave, y'know." John stilled, paused- "Dave, I didn't really mean that, you're just as real as the other Daves, sort of, I guess-"

"'Sort of, I guess'," Davesprite parroted dryly. "Okay." John opened his mouth, but seemed to lose his nerve and closed it, biting his lip. The fiddling resumed.

"Sorry," John muttered finally.

"... 'S okay."

Hush drifted down over them, and again, the wind whistled through Davesprite's mind, twining with the melodies and constant chatter of ideas and rhymes, until he couldn't take it anymore and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I don't know if I miss Bro or not."

"Huh?"

Davesprite floundered onwards. "I mean, he was there, and I admired him, and I don't know if he was ever proud of me or if I was a waste of his time or what and I don't know what he would think of where I am and what I'm doing and I'm tired of this and he was there but not there and what are we even doing on this fucking ship nothing that's what why did I agree to play this fucking game in the first place-"

"Dave."

He snapped his mouth shut and ground his teeth.

"It's okay."

For a long minute, Davesprite couldn't find his words.

"No," he yanked his hand away, "it's really not."

He crossed his arms, turned his head towards the stern, away from the pleading eyes he knew were there.

"Please go away," he said, a little more harshly than he intended to. "I'm trying to get some fucking rest."

There were no footsteps, but he knew John had left, because the cold descended again.

He tucked his head under his wing again, ignored the quiver in his shoulders, and closed his eyes.


End file.
